Anytime, Johnny
by BlueMoonstone
Summary: Re-Posting of an old story. Johnny gets struck down hard by an illness and must overcome his reluctance to accept much needed help from his friends. No slash.


**Authors Notes:**

**This is an old story I wrote back around 2000 or 2001. It was originally posted on an Emergency! fan fiction site that no longer exists, so those that have been around the fandom for a while may have already read it. It was the first (and so far only) fan fiction I ever wrote. I remember putting a lot of effort and time into it so I thought I might as well resurrect and post it here where people can easily find and read it. Enjoy! :)  
**

* * *

"Good morning, good morning, gentlemen! How are you this fine morning?" John Gage bounded into the locker room at 7:20 am with a wide, sincere smile stretched across his face. He placed his bag on the bench and began to remove his shirt.

Roy and Mike, the other occupants of the room, returned their colleague's greeting, albeit somewhat less enthusiastically.

"I take it your vacation agreed with you, Johnny," Roy stated while buttoning his uniform shirt.

"What all did you do?" asked Mike.

"Oh man, it was incredible guys, incredible!" John started. "Just got back last night. I'm so glad I ended up going. I did so much; I don't know where to start. I drove along the coast. The beaches I went to were beautiful, the hotel was great…. There was this girl," John turned to grin at Mike, and then back at Roy. John saw his partner roll his eyes and smile, which John returned with a half-hearted glare, but he was too excited to let anything interrupt his story. "She was staying at the same hotel as me, and man, was she something! Now, don't get me wrong, I know I'm on the rebound and all and I wasn't about to do anything stupid. But, I figured asking this incredibly smart and attractive woman to join me for dinner couldn't hurt, right?"

"So you went on a date with her?" Roy asked.

"Well, I spent an afternoon talking with her on the beach and then I asked her out. But as it turned out, she didn't really dig me." John replied matter-of-factly.

Roy chuckled softly and shook his head.

"Hey," John said, as he saw his partner's reaction. "It's not like I went to Mexico to meet women. In fact, most of the time I was by myself, which is really why I went in the first place."

"Did you take a lot of pictures, Johnny?" asked Mike.

"Oh, yeah, I was getting to that Mike. I got some beautiful shots on the beach at sunset. And, I went hiking for two days, too. Man, I hope those shots turn out, the scenery was unbelievable."

"Ah, Johnny, why don't you finish telling us while we get some coffee? You don't want to be late for roll call on your first day back," Roy hinted gently.

John abruptly realized that his two friends were fully dressed in uniform while he was still wearing jeans and his undershirt. "Oh, you're right, thanks Roy. Save me a cup, will ya?"

John promptly yanked open his locker door, an act which rewarded him with a face full of water. The Phantom had left his favorite pigeon a little "welcome back" present.

"Oh, man," yelled John. "Chet!"

Roy looked briefly over at John. They'd made it over six hours into the shift before their first run. The call was for an unknown-type rescue located well out of their normal service area. As both paramedics expected, the run was canceled before they had traveled more than halfway. They were now on the way back to the station.

In stark contrast to the exuberance John had been displaying all morning, he was now engulfed in a thoughtful silence. Roy thought about all the anecdotes John had told earlier about his week in Mexico. He smiled as he remembered John speaking of the girl he had met on the beach. It wasn't the fact that Gage had struck out with yet another woman that Roy found amusing. It was that John had thought to include it in the tales of his adventures that had made him chuckle.

"Hey, Johnny," Roy said, his voice visibly startling John. "Sorry… I just wanted to say I'm glad you had fun on your trip. You were so down for the last couple weeks, I was really starting to worry about you."

"Really?" John answered. "I didn't realize." Johnny paused a moment as he pondered Roy's comment. "I guess I had been kind of down since I broke up with Elizabeth. I mean we were together for over five months. Things were getting serious. It may have been a mutual decision, but it was still really rough."

"I know, Johnny."

John took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. "I did a lot of thinking during my trip. I really believe breaking up was for the best. I'd never be happy tied to someone like her."

John had trailed off, but Roy sensed his partner was just gathering his thoughts. He decided to remain quiet and wait for Johnny to continue. Roy's mind drifted to a conversation he had shared with Johnny on the last shift before his vacation...

_One week and three days prior... _

John and Roy sat at the station's kitchen table, eating what was left of Stoker's spaghetti. The paramedics had missed dinner, and now nearing 10:00 pm, ate their reheated meal alone, while the engine crew was on a run.

"Oh man, Roy, I didn't even realize how starving I was." John crooked a smile at Roy.

Roy returned John's comment with a small grin of his own. "I hear ya."

Two weeks had passed since John had ended a relationship with his girlfriend, and not yet a single word had been uttered by John revealing any emotional reaction. John had casually mentioned the break-up to his shiftmates a day or so after the fact. Any initial expressions of sympathy were short-lived as Gage politely, yet almost forcefully, brushed them off. John's behavior remained ordinary enough to squelch most doubts his friends may have had about his emotional well-being. However, the façade had not fooled Roy.

Roy studied the face of the man he had worked closely with and considered his best friend for five years. Roy knew his partner was struggling with something. John's expressive eyes belied the cool exterior. Roy briefly considered asking John if anything was bothering him, but dismissed the thought. All previous attempts had been expertly sidestepped. Roy decided Johnny would come to him, if and when he needed to talk.

"What?" mumbled Johnny through a mouthful of food. "Do I have sauce on my face or something? You're staring at me."

"No, no... Sorry, I'm just exhausted." Roy returned his gaze to his plate. "So, you're actually going to Mexico?"

"Yeah." John swallowed and took a gulp of milk. "I'm leaving the day after tomorrow."

"So what made you want to go to Mexico all of a sudden? I thought you were going to go camping on your time off?"

"I dunno. I was... Well, you know I was planning on taking Liz camping at that beautiful spot I found last year? I'd already booked the time off a while ago and we'd made all these plans. Somehow I just didn't think that going up north and camping alone would clear my head the way it usually does. I just felt like doing something I'd never done before, something spur of the moment. I wanted to do something that would only remind me of me... not me and Elizabeth."

"I guess that makes sense."

"Yeah..., yeah... Um..., Roy?" Gage cleared his throat. "Am I..., um..., what do you think..., uh..." He took a deep breath and exhaled loudly, but didn't again attempt to verbalize his thought.

"What, Johnny?" Roy gently prompted.

"...Nothin'," John sighed. He ate in silence for a few moments before turning to Roy once again. "...Roy?"

"Yeah, Johnny?"

"You've got sauce on your face."

_Returning to the Present... _

Roy waited patiently for almost a minute. Now that his partner seemed ready to talk, Roy didn't want to distract him.

"I'm a pretty independent guy, right Roy?"

"Yeah, I would say that," Roy said cautiously, not sure where Johnny was going with this.

"I've lived by myself for almost all my adult life, up until five months ago, that is." John paused and ran a hand through his hair before continuing. "Roy, she was starting to suffocate me. The way she entwined herself into my life. It was really nice at first, having someone always care where I was, where I'd been, where I was going. But, I began to realize there wasn't a single part of my life left that was all mine. I didn't know where my life ended and hers began."

"Johnny, you've pretty much described every married couple I know. Sharing a life together is what marriage is all about. Are you saying you want to live alone for the rest of your life?" Roy asked his partner pointedly.

"Yes... No... No, you don't understand. That's not what I'm saying. If I do ever get married, it can't be to someone like her... I can't make the same mistake again. She took away my independence… and my freedom." Johnny paused for a moment when he spoke again, his voice was softer. "Roy, when Liz left I felt really empty and lost... I've never felt lost when I'm alone before. Sure, ending a relationship with someone you care about is always rough…, but it was when she left that I realized how dependent I'd grown on her. That's what made me feel lost."

Roy nodded, but kept quiet, as he had the feeling there was more to come.

John paused only briefly. He rubbed the side of his nose with one finger, and took a breath before resuming. "At first it was just a bunch of little things I noticed. I forgot to pick up my uniforms, because she always went to the cleaners. She had totally rearranged my kitchen... I didn't know where anything was or what food I had. I had a headache... and I just crawled into bed like someone was going to bring me aspirin and make me dinner. My place started getting really messy... I mean, I'm no slob but, I had been totally taking it for granted that she'd take care of everything. I'm a grown man! I've always taken care of myself, and here I was unable to function normally! It's those little things that keep your life from falling apart."

Roy hadn't expected this at all... The speech, or its contents. No wonder his partner had been out of sorts the last few weeks. He chose his next words carefully. "It sounds to me like you fell into a comfortable routine over the last four months, and when you were forced to change, everything got disrupted. Top that with all the stress of a break up…, of course you were feeling down. That's normal."

John exhaled sharply, clearly not convinced. "You could be right..., but..., I dunno. It's just... Maybe, it wasn't just her. Maybe, I _would _be happier on my own. I'm not swearing off women or anything, but maybe there's no such thing as having independence and freedom in a committed relationship."

"Well, I guess that depends what your definition of independence and freedom is."

"Roy, all I know is from now on, outside of work, I'm not depending on anybody. I'm going to make sure I'm completely self-sufficient, even more so than before. And, if I happen to meet a woman one day that I want spend my life with... I'll make sure I stay that way. I won't ever take her or anybody else's help for granted."

Roy just shook his head. His partner had a lot to learn about marriage. He had no doubt that one day John would fall truly in love, and realize the error in his philosophy. There was no need to argue the point now, though.

"So, you're not going to depend on anyone for anything?" Roy asked.

"No, not if I can help it."

"Can I still depend on you to help me work on my floors next week?"

"Of course! I said I would, didn't I?" John seemed surprised at the suggestion to the contrary.

"Yeah, yeah you did." Roy murmured, laughing quietly to himself.

John rubbed his left eye and stifled a loud yawn. "Man, it's almost three and we still haven't had a run. Squad 16's been called out twice since we left! You sure that thing's working?" John motioned jokingly to the squad's radio.

With perfect timing, the radio crackled to life telling them to stand by for response.

"You were, saying?" Roy snorted as he reached for his helmet.

"Uh, Roy? Thanks for listening," Johnny said quietly while scribbling down the address.

"Any time, Johnny, anytime."

_The Next Shift... _

DeSoto sighed as he sat behind the wheel of Squad 51, about to begin the fifteen-minute drive to Rampart General Hospital. Unlike the unusually slow shift they'd had the other day, this one had begun early, and never stopped. They'd had continuous runs almost all day, culminating in an early evening fire in a large office building. Roy was hot, dirty and sweaty. His tired eyes watched as other firemen continued to mop up the last vestiges of the structure fire. He leaned back and closed his eyes, taking a long cleansing breath.

Roy guessed his partner would be arriving at the hospital with their smoke inhalation victim right about now. Roy had stayed behind to look after two other men from 51s who had been injured while fighting the fire. Fortunately, Chet and Marco received only small cuts and bruises, nothing that required a trip to the hospital.

Roy carefully massaged his temples before turning the key and pulling out of the parking lot. It had taken a while to find the missing janitor. Roy had eaten some smoke himself in the fire, and the acrid fumes had left him with an aching head. _Nothing some aspirin, and peace and quiet can't cure. A hot shower and a good meal wouldn't hurt either. _

Roy winced as he realized his peace and quiet would soon be broken. Roy had been very relieved to discover John was back to his old, very talkative self. Roy usually found Johnny's penchant for chatter amusing. Their conversations often left him confused, but Roy decided their differences… including thought patterns… was probably one of the things that made him and Gage so compatible as friends. Johnny was also one of the most sensitive people Roy had ever met. He could usually tell when Roy really was not up to listening about his current obsession and tried his best to accommodate, for which Roy was always grateful. However, when Johnny was truly irked nothing could get in the way of his rant... except a run, of course, and that only served to postpone it.

Roy knew this run had the potential to prompt such a reaction in his partner: The janitor wouldn't have needed rescuing if he had followed the proper fire procedures instead of hiding in a bathroom. Normally Roy might have wholeheartedly shared in the conversation, but right now he was too drained. Roy dreaded the inevitable prattle.

_Hmmm..., Johnny should be just as tired as I am, and he took in as much smoke as me... He'll probably be craving quiet, too. _

Roy's hope was short-lived, and he sighed as he was hit with a twinge of guilt.

_I just wished that my best friend has a headache and feels like crap. _Roy gently shook his head. _This headache is really getting to me. _

With that, he quieted his thoughts and tried to enjoy his last ten minutes of guaranteed silence.

Johnny exited Treatment Room 3, glanced around, and then headed to the base station.

_I feel like crap _, he thought to himself. He nodded at Dixie and smiled at her wanly.

"Hi, Johnny," said Dixie. "Tough day?" Dixie looked at the still very sooty, disheveled young man. His hair hung limply and his face was streaked with the rivulets of sweat that had streamed down his face earlier. He looked tired.

Johnny suppressed the irrational urge to stick his tongue out at Dixie.

"You could say that," he responded as he reached for a Styrofoam cup and the coffeepot. "We got the guy out just in time. You'd think a grown man would know better than to hide in a bathroom stall. I left Roy treating a couple of minor injuries from our guys. Hose blew." He took a sip of the hot brew. "And, how is your day going?"

Dixie was recounting the impossibility of her day when her words started to become muffled and a familiar low roar invaded his ears. _I don't believe this _, thought Johnny. _I'm going to pass out. _He knew he was in trouble and needed help now. At the very least, he was going to get coffee everywhere. Dix wasn't going to like that...

"Dix," said Johnny quietly. He blindly tried to place the cup on the counter he knew must be to his right as he felt himself starting to go, his vision fading.

John felt tight fingers wrap around his left arm. With his ears and eyes now useless, he could only assume the grip belonged to Dixie. John felt one hand move to his back as she tried to ease him gently to the ground. However, Johnny's tenuous grip on reality abruptly released while he was still standing, and his dead weight tumbled to the coffee-strewn ground.

John awoke to a cold wetness slowly enveloping the back of his neck and stomach. The same sensation abruptly appeared on his forehead, and he dimly recognized its source as a wet towel.

Gage cracked his eyelids open a slit, not entirely sure what lay beyond them. A bright light pierced his exposed eyes, its sudden, painful intensity overwhelming the details of the dark figure that hovered over him. Full awareness returned to John, along with a rush of embarrassment, as he realized why he was staring up into the face of Dr. Kelly Brackett.

"Welcome back, Johnny." The doctor smiled as his patient roused.

"Oh, man... I passed out, didn't I?" Johnny said quietly.

"You sure did, Johnny." Dixie's voice traveled to Johnny from somewhere behind his head, but he dared not turn around to look for her. Lying still on the exam table was currently a sickeningly dizzy experience for Johnny. Head turning was out of the question. Dixie moved into his line of vision as she continued to speak. Her eyes sparkled down at him. "But not before decorating my floor with your coffee." Dixie's voice took a slightly more serious tone. "You gave me quite a scare there."

"Sorry Dix," Johnny said softly. "I tried to put the cup down first. I didn't want to make a mess... I didn't mean to scare you either."

"Johnny," Dixie replied. "Relax, it's okay. I was only teasing."

Johnny nodded his head weakly, and squeezed his eyes shut as a wave of nausea swept over him.

"Johnny, how do feel?" Doctor Brackett asked. John knew his subtle display of discomfort hadn't gone unnoticed by the physician.

"Not so good, Doc," Johnny replied in a small, tight voice. He opened his eyes a crack to look at the doctor. "Head's killing me... I'm dizzy and really nauseous..."

"Just try to relax and take deep, slow breaths," Doctor Brackett spoke soothingly. "The nausea should pass. There's a basin right here just in case though, Johnny. We'll give you something for your stomach if you don't feel better soon. I think you've got a bit of heat exhaustion. Dixie's going to set you up with an IV here. You should be feeling much better once we get some fluids into you. I have to go see another patient, but I'll be back later to check on you, okay?"

"'kay," Johnny whispered, shutting his eyes once more.

"Dix," Brackett said, his voice now coming from the direction of the doorway. "When you're done here, Mike's going to need your help in 1."

"Sure, Kel," she replied, as she began to prepare Johnny's left arm for the IV. "Okay, Johnny, you're going to feel a little prick. You know the drill."

Johnny, who knew the drill all too well, stayed silent and just nodded his head slightly without opening his eyes. He hated getting needles almost to a phobia, but at the moment the battle to keep his stomach contents in place demanded all of his attention. John offered no protest as he felt Dixie insert the needle and start the IV drip.

"Here, Johnny, just in case," Dixie said knowingly, as she tucked a blue plastic emesis basin in Gage's right hand. She noted the paramedic's still very grimy complexion. "One of my nurses will be in soon to get you cleaned up a bit." She squeezed his shoulder gently, before walking away.

"Thanks, Dix," Gage mumbled to the retreating nurse. He took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.

Gage lay alone in the treatment room, waiting for a sense of normality to creep back.

DeSoto strolled into Rampart through the Emergency entrance. The ER was a whirl of activity, but that was nothing unusual. Roy continued down the hall to the base station in search of his partner. Two paramedics from 45s were there, sipping coffee. A young blonde nurse, whose name escaped Roy, busied herself with a small stack of paperwork.

The paramedics and nurse exchanged pleasantries as Roy poured himself a much-needed cup of coffee. He asked if any of the three had seen his partner, but the answer was no.

Roy, not really feeling up to small talk, politely made his excuses, and continued the search for Johnny.

He peeked into the doctor's lounge, but found it empty. After freshening up a bit in the men's room, Roy returned once more to the base station, assuming Johnny would eventually end up there. The paramedics were gone, their half-empty coffee cups left behind. The same nurse was still sitting behind the counter. She looked up as she heard him approach. _Amy, _recalled Roy, _that's her name. _

"Are you still looking for your partner?" she asked.

"Yeah, he's probably just helping out with a patient," Roy sighed. He'd been hoping to just retrieve Johnny and head straight back to the station.

"Well," Amy started, "I just heard from Sarah, one of the new girls, that a paramedic collapsed here in the hall about fifteen or twenty minutes ago. She didn't remember his name, but he's in Treatment Room 4 if you want to see if it's him."

She nodded at the door across the hall, but Roy had already mumbled a thank you and started toward it, his mind overwhelming him with the possible scenarios waiting for him in the next room.

Roy opened the door to reveal his partner lying on the exam table. John's uniform shirt had been removed and his whiteT-shirt was pulled up to his chest with a damp white towel placed on his exposed belly. His face was much cleaner than the last time Roy had seen it. A moist cloth also rested on Gage's forehead. Dr. Brackett was talking to Johnny, but both looked toward Roy at the sound of his entrance. Roy glanced worriedly at Johnny, then the doctor.

"What happened? What's wrong?" Roy asked. His voice appeared calm as always, but his quicker than normal movements betrayed his concern.

"I'm fine now, it's nothing. Jus' got a little dizzy is all," Johnny replied sheepishly.

Roy ignored his partner, looking to Brackett for his answer.

"It seems your partner had a touch of heat exhaustion, and he passed out in the hallway. But, we rehydrated him and his vitals are back to normal." Brackett said, as his face twitched into the hint of a smile.

"So he's okay...?" Relief was evident in Roy's voice.

"Yeah, I'm feeling much better... can I go, Doc?" John removed the towel from his head and propped himself up on both elbows.

"Well," Brackett started. "Let's sit you up first and see how you feel, okay Johnny?"

Roy and the doctor each grabbed an arm and gently raised John so he was sitting on the table. John didn't verbally or physically resist the assistance, but he wore an expression of utter annoyance as he was lifted. The look intensified when the helping hands refused to leave his arms, even after Johnny was sitting upright. Roy had to suppress his grin at the sight of his partner's obvious displeasure.

"I'm okay, I'm okay. You can let go now!" John emphasized. Both Desoto and Brackett released their grip. John straightened his T-shirt, and ran a hand through his damp hair.

"Johnny, anymore dizziness?" Brackett asked.

"No, not dizzy any more, and my stomach's firmly in place." John patted his belly and flashed a crooked grin at the doctor.

"Can he go back to work, Doc?" Roy asked.

"I don't see why not, but I'll leave it up to you, Johnny. You should know best if you're up to finishing the shift or not."

Johnny's reply followed an almost imperceptible hesitation. "Hey, I told ya, I feel fine. So, I can go?" John hopped off the table.

"Then get out of here, hose jockey," said Brackett, lightly. "But Johnny, come back right away if you experience any more dizziness or nausea tonight, okay?"

"Good deal."

John and Roy left the exam room, both thankful to be on their way back to the station.

John slipped into the passenger seat of the squad and shut the door. John slowly reached for the squad's microphone, then held it in his hand, taking a long moment before calling them in as available.

"Johnny, you sure you're okay?" Roy asked with concern.

"Yeah Roy, I'm fine. Really. If I couldn't do the job, I'd say so."

"As long as you're sure," DeSoto said, as he turned the key in the ignition.

"Yeah, I am. What about you? You were in the fire as long as I was."

Roy sighed tiredly. "Yeah, I'm okay too. I'm beat, but I'm okay."

"Squad 51 available," John said into the microphone then returned to its holder. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. Dispatch acknowledged their availability.

Truthfully, John didn't feel perfectly fine. His head still hurt and all he could think about was the warmth of his bunk... that desire even overshadowed any thought of food. He really had been tempted to tell the doctor he didn't feel well so he go home and sleep in his own bed and nurse his aching head. One look at Roy, however, had stopped that notion. Roy looked exhausted, and John could see the pain lurking behind Roy's eyes. John always knew when his partner had a headache just by looking at him… there was something about the way his brows furrowed, and his eyes settled in a slight squint. John knew he couldn't possibly feel any worse than Roy or any of the other guys did. They'd all had an equally trying day.

They rode back to the station in comfortable silence.

The paramedics returned to an empty station. It was Roy's turn to cook dinner. Fortunately for the weary pair, Roy had been able to prepare a tuna casserole earlier in the shift, during a brief break in the action prior to this last call.

DeSoto pulled the casserole from the fridge; it just needed to be baked. He looked over at his partner, who had loudly collapsed on the dayroom couch a moment before. John sat in the middle of the couch, his legs stretched out straight in front of him. His head leaned on the back of the couch, eyes closed, and his right hand absently scratched Henry's belly, who was sprawled on the couch next to him.

"Hey, Johnny?"

A grunt that sort of resembled 'uh huh' came from John, but he didn't move, and his eyes stayed closed.

"This is going to take about half an hour before it's ready. You can get in the shower first if you want."

John opened his eyes and leaned forward, his hands placed on each knee. "Yeah, thanks Roy. I'm so tired I could fall asleep right now… I'm sorry, do you need help with dinner?"

"No, it's okay, thanks, there's not much left to do."

"Do you want me to finish it? You could go take a shower first, or lie down or something. You look like your head's bothering you."

"No, thanks I'm fine. I took some aspirin at the hospital… headache's pretty much gone now."

"Okay, suit yourself," Gage mumbled. He reluctantly pushed himself off the couch and walked toward the doorway.

Roy shook his head as his partner left the kitchen and headed to the locker room. John looked positively haggard. His hair was a matted mess, his shoulders slumped, and Roy thought he still looked too pale. Roy wondered if John finishing his shift wasn't such a great idea after all. But, he trusted Doctor Brackett's judgment, and he trusted Johnny's judgment.

_Unbelievable, the guy looks dead on his feet and he's worried about my headache. _

However, Roy had to confess that he, too, had relied on the powers of adrenaline to make it through a shift from time to time. They all had.

_I'll just keep an eye on him…. I really do worry too much. _

Roy had set the table and was removing the casserole from the oven when he heard the engine return. A minute later, four very hungry firemen poured into the kitchen, with various compliments to Roy about the wonderful aroma wafting through the station. Roy and the engine crew made no haste in assembling at the kitchen table and digging into the casserole.

"Hey, where's Gage?" Chet asked.

"He went to take a shower, but he should be finished by now," Roy replied.

Marco volunteered to find the absent paramedic, but returned alone a minute later.

"Roy? Johnny's sound asleep in his bunk. I didn't know if I should wake him." Marco said, as he returned to his meal.

"What? It's not even eight yet!" exclaimed Chet.

"Maybe I should go check on him," said Roy. "Brackett treated him for heat exhaustion about an hour ago."

"Is he all right to work?" Stanley asked with concern

"Yeah, I think he's just tired," assured Roy. "I'll see if he wants dinner."

Roy entered the dorm, and sure enough, his partner lay on his back in his bunk, hair still damp from the shower. His left arm was draped over his eyes, a customary sleeping position for John, but Roy suspected he had been consciously trying to block the summer sunlight still filtering through the window blinds. His turnout pants and boots were ready by the side of the bed. This was no pre-dinner nap.

"Johnny..." Roy gently shook his partner, an act that rewarded him with a mumbled expletive. He shook him again, a little less gently.

"Go away. What do want, Roy? I'm sleeping." John didn't remove his arm from his eyes.

"I just wanted to make sure you're feeling okay... and tell you that dinner is ready."

John flopped his left hand down on the bed and looked at his partner.

"I'm fine Roy, just bushed… and I'm not hungry." Gage placed his arm back over his eyes.

"Do you feel sick to your stomach again? If you do, you need to go see Brackett."

"No, I don't feel sick… just tired and achy and not hungry. Would ya leave me alone, please?"

"Okay. Just don't expect there to be any leftovers for a midnight snack. Chet's already on seconds."

John released a loud, exasperated breath. "All right, all right. I'm wide awake now anyways." He grumbled through his teeth, as he sat up in bed and rubbed his face. "Jus' gimme a minute."

Satisfied, Roy returned to the kitchen.

John grudgingly sat up and pulled on his bunker pants. Sleep had claimed him the moment his head hit the pillow. He had taken some aspirin for his headache, but it was the kind of pain he knew wouldn't go away until he got some decent rest. He ran his hand through his hair and slowly padded across the engine bay to the kitchen. He hadn't lied to Roy; he didn't feel queasy… just not at all hungry. But, he was aware that he hadn't eaten anything, save a few hurried mouthfuls, all day. Johnny figured it would be wise to try and down some sort of nourishment.

_One syncopal episode a shift is enough for me. _

John reassured Captain Stanley that he was fine, just tired; a claim that was supported by the plateful of dinner he surprised himself by finishing. Although quiet at first, John soon actively participated in the conversation and playful banter of his co-workers, alleviating any lingering worries about his health.

The men spent the rest of the evening relaxing quietly and watching an old horror movie on television. John slipped away to bed before the movie was over, but his weary shift mates joined him shortly after.

The next day's wake up tones roused the firemen at Station 51. The men were pleasantly surprised to discover they had slept the whole night through without a single run. Their final hours of duty were equally uneventful. The squad was toned out to a traffic accident just before the shift was over, but the newly arrived B-shift paramedics offered to take the call.

Roy hurried home at the end of the shift. Joanne and the kids were leaving later that morning to stay at her parents' house. This was his last chance to spend time with his family for almost a week.

Jennifer leapt into her father's arms the moment Roy came through the door. Chris let his dad ruffle his hair, but at eleven years old he was 'too big' for unabashed displays of affection. Joanne tenderly kissed her husband's cheek, and led the family into the kitchen, where she had a special breakfast waiting.

Roy wanted this morning to last forever. Both kids vied for his attention, while still being uncharacteristically courteous to each other. It was a welcome change from the sibling bickering that had been escalating since the DeSoto children started summer vacation a little over a month ago.

Roy smiled at his wife across the kitchen table. Joanne returned his loving gaze with a radiant smile of her own. She ran a hand though her dark hair that fell in soft waves below her shoulders. Roy loved that she had grown her hair out the last two years from her previous shorter style. He always thought she was beautiful... but nothing compared to running his fingers through the long silky strands. Roy regretted he wouldn't have some time alone with Joanne before she left.

The last few weeks had been stressful. The kids had been fighting more than ever before, and had found increasingly inventive ways to annoy each other, while eluding parental restrictions. It was a constant struggle for peace, creating a hanging tension that had led to more than a few arguments between Roy and Joanne. There was no tension now, though...

Roy's schedule this week included a precious four days off for A-Shift. While Joanne and the kids spent the week away, Roy was planning to do some long awaited work around the house. Joanne had been asking him to refinish the aged oak floors for years. The walls also needed a fresh coat of paint, and there were various other odd jobs to be done. Johnny had offered to help him for at least a couple afternoons, and the other men of A-shift had volunteered some time, too. Roy appreciated their generosity.

By 11:00 am, Joanne's station wagon was packed and ready. Jennifer, and even Chris, hugged and kissed their father goodbye before hoping in the car, secure in the knowledge that a firm, rotating schedule was in place as to who sat in the front seat. Currently Chris sat in the back, buried beneath a mountain of pillows, books, and toys.

Roy and Joanne went back in the house to 'check something.' Roy took Joanne in a passionate kiss, followed by a tight embrace. When they parted, Joanne reached up and brushed her hand through his brown hair. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Hey, we're only going for a week."

"I know... you're not going to recognize the place when you get back."

"I can't wait, hon. But don't work yourself too hard. You look tired."

Roy kissed Joanne's forehead and walked her out to the car.

Johnny drove home, while making mental notes of the chores he wanted to do before going to Roy's place that afternoon. The grocery store wouldn't be open yet, so shopping had to wait.

Upon arrival, he surveyed his apartment, dismayed to see it was still in an abnormal state of disarray. He'd only had one day off since returning from Mexico, and that had been filled with catching up on sleep, attacking a stack of unpaid bills, and a rush to make sure he had clean uniforms.

_Man, I've got to get my act together. I really meant it; I'm going to be in total control of my life. _

He went into the bedroom. John grabbed a laundry basket from the closet and picked up the dirty clothes that were piled into a corner, as well as the few errant articles scattered around the room. The bed was made, but the sheets needed changing. He yanked back the quilt, but sat down on the bed before removing the bedding. He lay back crosswise on the bed, closing his eyes, while trying to prioritize his chores and errands, and figure out what he could get done this morning before going to Roy's house.

His phone rang, startling him. He sat up, groggy and confused.

_Damn, _Johnny rubbed his face. _I must have dozed off for a minute. _

He fumbled for the receiver, pulling it to his face.

"Hello?"

"Johnny? It's Roy. Weren't you coming over today?"

"Yeah… but not till this afternoon."

"Johnny, it's almost three-thirty. Chet's been here for two hours already."

"What! Aw..., man! I fell asleep... I had things to do today..."

"Relax, it's okay. You don't have to come over. Chet and I can handle things today. Don't worry about it. I've got more than enough help this week if you're busy."

"No, Roy. I'm sorry; I'll be there. I'm leaving right now. Bye."

John hung up the receiver before Roy could argue. He splashed cold water on his face in the bathroom, attempting to rid himself of the thick fog of over-sleep that was slowing his mind and body. He felt better, but decided to pick up a large coffee on the way.

He pulled up to Roy's house shortly after four-thiry. He let himself in, and found Roy and Chet in a very empty living room.

"Hey, guys…brought some pizza." John held up the box. He walked into the kitchen, and placed the box and a six-pack of beer on the counter.

Roy and Chet followed him in, each grabbing a slice and a beer. Roy thanked John for the refreshments.

"Hey Gage, nice of you to finally join us. While you were getting your beauty sleep, us real men have been working our asses off." Chet teased, as he finished a piece of pizza.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah…whatever Kelly," Johnny replied dryly. "So what needs to be done?"

Roy briefly updated Johnny on what work was already finished, and what they still needed to do.

"Good deal. Let's get started then," Johnny offered.

"Hey, we've already started," Chet reminded with a mischievous tone. John shot him a dirty look.

They worked continuously for several hours and got a lot done. John purposely avoided Chet, not really in the mood for a sparring match, friendly or otherwise. He worked mostly in silence. It felt good to work with his hands; it gave John a real sense of satisfaction and accomplishment. He began mentally listing all the projects he could do around his apartment... alone, of course. _That's exactly what I need right now. _

Deciding on Chinese take-out for dinner, they sat outside on the back patio eating and sipping cold beers. Chet left right after dinner, claiming he had plans that night, but Johnny offered to stay later.

Around ten, Roy finished painting the ceiling in the living room. He stepped off the ladder and looked around for Johnny. He finally found him sitting at the picnic table in the backyard, his head rested on folded arms.

"Hey, Johnny, you okay?"

"I just needed some air." Johnny's voice was quiet and strained. He looked up at Roy, squinting at the porch light, which illuminated his very pale face. John grimaced slightly, in obvious pain. "Man, I've got a killer headache. It started sometime after dinner, but it didn't get really bad until about twenty minutes ago. It's pounding right behind my eyes." Johnny closed his eyes and massaged his forehead. "You got any aspirin?"

"I'm sure we've got some. Come back inside and I'll get it for you."

Slowly, Johnny got up and followed Roy back into the house where he sat at the kitchen table. Roy brought him a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water. He downed three tablets. John hoped Roy hadn't noticed his shaky hands.

Besides having one of the worst headaches he could ever remember, an overwhelming exhaustion had set in along with the pain.

_Oh man, I hope I'm not getting another cold. _He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Roy took advantage of the moment and felt John's forehead with the back of his hand, before Johnny pushed it away.

"Well, you don't really feel warm."

"I know, I know… I... I'm not sick. It's just a headache. I did eat all that smoke yesterday, remember?"

"Okay, you're probably right then. Maybe you shouldn't drive home. Why don't you stay here tonight? You can sleep in Chris's room."

_Damn, he did notice. _

John thought for a moment. Roy was right. Feeling like he did right now, Johnny wouldn't be comfortable driving. He couldn't stay focused. If Roy gave him a lift, he'd be stranded tomorrow without a car for who knows how long.

"Um, thanks Roy. You mind if I take a shower first? It might wake me up, and make my head feel better. Maybe I'll be up to driving after."

"Sure, go ahead."

Johnny grabbed a towel from the linen cupboard, and made his way to the bathroom. He stripped out of his sweaty, paint-streaked clothes, and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. He stood in the shower and let the water rush over him, but instead of invigorating him, the water seemed to wash away what little energy he had left. The heat didn't even touch the pain.

Johnny quickly washed himself and got out. He towel dried, and pulled on his boxer shorts. His head was spinning with pain and fatigue. He opened the door, releasing steam into the hallway, and leaned heavily against the doorframe.

"Roy?" called John.

"Yeah?" Roy peaked out of Chris's bedroom.

"I think I might take you up on your offer."

"Come on in. I just put fresh sheets on the bed."

John, who couldn't have cared less about clean sheets at this point, walked in and curled up in the bed.

"I'm going leave the window open. The paint fumes might be bothering you. G'night, Johnny." Roy said quietly.

"'Night Roy, I'm sure I'll feel better once I get some sleep. Can you shut the door?" whispered Johnny.

Darkness and silence enveloped him, leaving him alone with the throbbing in his head. He was distantly aware he'd feel embarrassed in the morning… but right now there was only pain. He waited. He waited for the aspirin to work its way through his blood stream… and for sleep to claim him. Whatever took the pain away. He was asleep in minutes.

_The fire was burning all around Johnny; there was no way out. His air tank was long empty. The heat and smoke entered him with each breath, burning him from inside his body. He wasn't going to last much longer. He could no longer see through the thick smoke. He tried to remember how he had gotten here, or whom he was last with… but he drew a blank. All he knew was that he was alone now, and the fire was too strong for anyone to get to him. John was forced to the ground as something fell on top of him. Searing pain coursed throughout his body. He coughed and spluttered. Blood trickled out of his nose and mouth. There was a loud crash, followed by a shuddering crack beneath him… and then he was falling as the floor gave way... _

Johnny's body jerked, abruptly ending his nightmare. His breathing slowed as he realized he was safe. He was in a bed… Christopher DeSoto's bed. But something was wrong… the terrible sensations from the fire were still there; they hadn't ended with the dream. John lay on his back, trying to will himself back to sleep, hoping that a new dream would be less uncomfortable than the one he just had. A sputtering cough forced him to sit up and catch his breath, as he choked on something dripping down his throat. The last disorienting tendrils of slumber dissolved from his mind, leaving Johnny to contend with a myriad of very real pains and discomforts.

Blood, he thought, as the metallic taste registered. The warm liquid dripped onto his bare chest. He touched below his nose, finding the source of the bleed. Perspiration trickled down his face and back. Johnny felt unbearably hot. He sighed softly in resignation. He had a fever… and judging from the sweat soaked sheets beneath him, it was probably quite high. His head was still pounding mercilessly, joined now by a deep ache in his lower back and legs.

Johnny slowly got out of bed and forced his trembling legs to carry him to the bathroom. He shut the door without turning on the light and sat on the edge of the bathtub. Johnny hoped he had managed to stay quiet enough so as to not wake Roy.

A drop of blood splattered on his bare leg. First things first, he had to stop the bleeding. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and leaned his head back. He eased himself onto the floor, so his back could lean against the cool tiles of the wall.

He needed to figure out what he was going to do next. If he were at the station, he would tell Captain Stanley he was sick and needed to go home. Cap would probably have Roy check him over, and John would either end up at home in his bed, or at Rampart, depending just how sick he was. If he were at home, he'd check himself over and either take an aspirin and go back to bed, or get himself to Rampart… by taxi if he had to. He'd only bother Roy or one of his other friends for a drive as a last resort. The situation would have to be absolutely dire before he called himself a squad. Johnny desperately wished he were at home right now.

After about five minutes, he leaned his head forward, and dabbed his nose with a wad of toilet paper. His nose had stopped bleeding. Now he had to determine just how sick he was.

Johnny slowly stood up, gripping the edge of the sink for a moment as a wave of dizziness passed through him. He opened the medicine cabinet and found a dusty thermometer, which he rinsed off and positioned under his tongue. He grabbed his watch, which was still next to the sink where he'd placed it before showering a few hours ago. It was 12:37 am. He sat down on the toilet lid and took his pulse. His pulse was 65… too low. He checked the thermometer…103.1 degrees. He was beginning to shiver… the telltale sign of a rising temperature.

_High fever, relative bradycardia... I'm in over my head here. _

If he were at home, he would be calling a taxi...

There was no avoiding it; he had to wake up Roy. Johnny walked down the dark hall toward the master bedroom. As awful as he felt, Johnny was dreading the inevitable fussing about to ensue. He also didn't like the idea of anyone seeing him so ill and helpless, even his best friend.

The door was partially open. When Johnny stepped inside, the room was empty. The bed had obviously been slept in; the sheets were thrown back. Confused, and none too steady on his feet, Johnny sat down on the edge of the bed. It was still warm. Johnny's feverish mind realized that wherever Roy was, he'd probably be back shortly.

A minute later Roy quietly returned, carrying a plate with a sandwich and a glass of milk. Roy was startled to see Johnny sitting slouched over on his bed.

"Johnny, you scared the hell out of me. Is something wrong?"

"Yeah," said Johnny, his voice noticeably weak and shaky. "I'm not feeling too good. I guess it wasn't just a headache... I uh..., I think I might need to see a doctor."

Roy placed his food down on the dresser and flipped the lights on. If Johnny was volunteering for a hospital trip, this was serious.

Roy gasped at the sight of his friend. His lower face and chest were covered with blood. Roy immediately went into paramedic mode. "How do you feel? Is it only your nose bleeding?"

"Yeah, jus' my nose... it stopped though... head still hurts... my lower back aches… my legs hurt... fever's 103.1... pulse is 65."

"Did you vomit?"

"No, I'm not nauseous... well, a little queasy maybe." Johnny unconsciously rubbed his stomach.

"Do you feel like you might throw up?"

"No, I don't think so… maybe… but I don't think so."

"Were you feeling bad before tonight?"

"No..., just the headache... and the heat exhaustion at work... don't think that had anything to do with this though..."

"Is your head worse now?"

"Uh..., yeah... it... it feels like water is boiling in my head... hurts when I move my eyes..."

"Why don't you lie down and I'll take your temp again."

John readily lay back on Roy's bed, while Roy got the thermometer from the bathroom. Roy placed it under Johnny's tongue, then went to get a bowl of cool water with a couple of clean washcloths. Roy set the bowl on the nightstand, and retrieved the thermometer.

"103.3. Johnny, it's rising. Roy reached for Johnny's wrist, and confirmed the too-low heart rate. Rinsing out one of the cloths, he rested it on Johnny's sweaty forehead, and used the other to wipe away some of the dried blood. Johnny closed his eyes, too exhausted to protest Roy's ministrations.

"Johnny, don't fall asleep. We'll get you to the hospital as soon as you're cleaned up."

"'kay... Here let me finish that." Johnny took the cloth from Roy and washed away the few smears left on his chest and belly.

Roy quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt. He gave Johnny a pair of gray sweat pants and a t-shirt. "Here, you can wear these. Your clothes are pretty dirty and covered in paint. Do you need help?"

"Uh, thanks... No, I can do it... I... I'm not _that _sick."

Johnny slowly dressed himself. The small task required all his concentration, as his limbs were heavy and clumsy.

"Okay, Johnny. How about we take your Rover? You can lie down on the mattress in the back. Can you make it okay?"

"Yeah, yeah... Let's go," muttered John.

Johnny managed to get to the car with only minimal assistance from Roy. He lay down on the bed in the back. Roy covered him with a blanket and handed him a pillow. Johnny curled up into a semi-fetal position and didn't move again until Roy parked at Rampart.

They were both disappointed to the find the ER unusually busy for that time of night. The waiting room was almost full. Johnny sank into one of the available seats on the end of a couch. He rested his head on the wall. While Roy spoke to the nurse at the admissions desk, Johnny tried to muster the strength to get up and join him, but it was all he could do to stay awake. He couldn't even concentrate enough to make out what they were saying through the noise in the room. Johnny really wanted to lie down.

Roy sat down beside him.

"Well, Johnny. We're going to have to wait for a bit. They're swamped with critical cases right now. It shouldn't be too long, though."

"Can't we wait in the doctor's lounge?" asked Johnny quietly.

"No, sorry, I already asked. It's being used by a grieving family."

"Oh..."

They sat and waited. Roy read a magazine and Johnny stared at nothing, feeling like he was on display. He knew he looked terrible, and saw some of the other waiting room occupants cast wary glances his way. John wanted to disappear into the yellow wall behind him.

Ten minutes had passed when John's nose started to once again drip blood. Johnny quietly caught Roy's attention. Roy got a box of Kleenex from the nurse at the desk.

"Man, this is really dumb," said Johnny in a nasal voice, as he grabbed a tissue and pressed it to his nose.

"I know, just take it easy. We shouldn't have to wait much longer."

Johnny let out a shaky sigh, and continued to tend to his nose. The bleed was small and stopped within a few minutes.

"I'm going to the men's room," Johnny announced. Besides the obvious purpose of the men's room, and the chance to splash cold water on his hot, bloody face, Johnny was hoping he'd run into one of the doctors or nurses he knew well on his trek down the hall. Maybe they'd see him and find a place for him to lie down, if not get him seen by a doctor right away. Johnny didn't expect Roy to let him just wander around, but he assumed Roy wouldn't deny his sick friend a bodily need.

Roy kept a steadying grasp on John's arm as he slowly stood up out of his chair.

"I can go by myself, ya know," muttered John

"You're woozy, you might pass out and hit your head or something."

Johnny grunted softy, and shrugged in reply.

Roy let go of Johnny once he was standing, but hovered very close as they shuffled down the hall to the restroom.

By pure dumb luck, Johnny's wishful thinking was fulfilled. Joe Early was washing his hands at the sink as they entered.

"Hey guys, what a night! That's what I get for agreeing to cover a night shift. It's finally slowing down a bit though," said the doctor, as he glimpsed the paramedics reflected in the mirror. He turned around, surprise evident on his face as he got a better look at Johnny. "Johnny, you look awful. What's wrong?"

"I don't know Doc, that's why I'm here," Johnny answered quietly.

"What's his temperature?" Dr. Early directed his question at Roy.

"103.3 last time I checked," supplied Roy.

"John, I want you in a treatment room right now," stated the doctor. "Stay put. I'm going to be right back with a wheelchair."

True to his word, Dr. Early left and returned a minute later with a wheelchair. Exhaustion and pain now completely overriding embarrassment, Johnny gratefully collapsed into the chair, and allowed himself to be wheeled down the hall to Treatment Room 3.

Lying down had never felt so good… even if it was on an exam table. Knowing he was in good hands, and no longer a burden to his partner, Johnny let himself relax. He drifted in and out of consciousness. He was periodically brought to full awareness when the doctor needed to ask him questions. He vaguely heard Roy supplying whatever information he could. Johnny felt someone take his vitals… pretty sure it was Roy. A thermometer was stuck in his mouth. Sharp pain and burning in his arms told him of blood samples.

He heard Roy and Dr. Early talking, but the voices were now a mostly incomprehensible buzz swirling around Johnny's mind. Only snippets of clarity surfaced.

"...Most likely a bad flu..."

"...I want to cover all bases though..."

"...nose bleed could be significant..."

"...was in Mexico last week?"

"...I have a hunch..."

"...I've seen this before..."

"...wait and see..."

Johnny fell into a deep sleep.

Awareness returned to Gage slowly. The first thing he noticed was that he felt a lot better than the last time he was awake. The pain in his head and the ache in his back and legs were much diminished. He suspected he was still running a fever, but the profuse sweating and chills were gone. An IV was attached to his right arm and he was wearing only a hospital gown. John looked at his surroundings. He had been moved to a regular room, and was alone. With a contented sigh, he closed his eyes and promptly fell back asleep.

Roy sat in the now-empty waiting room. The frantic pace of the ER had slowed down considerably since he'd first arrived two hours ago.

Johnny was still sound asleep, as he had been for more than an hour. Roy had stayed with him until he was moved to a regular room. Despite a number of valiant attempts, sleep had remained elusive to Roy… the couch in the waiting room wasn't very comfortable. Unfortunately, the lounge was still occupied the last time he checked.

If his family were home, Roy probably would have gone back to his house to get some rest. As it was, he didn't want to needlessly leave his friend alone and feeling so terrible… at least until they had some answers from the doctor.

A sudden commotion brought his attention to the hallway as 51's two B-Shift paramedics brought in a cardiac patient. One paramedic was riding on the gurney performing chest compressions, while the other ran alongside, holding up IVs. The speeding gurney gathered an entourage of doctors and nurses and disappeared into a treatment room.

Roy sighed at the familiar scene.

He picked up a discarded newspaper and tried to occupy himself. Shortly after his eyes had settled on a suitable column, Roy sensed the stare of someone standing directly in front of him.

Roy put down the newspaper to reveal Chet Kelly clad in full turnout gear.

"Hey Roy, I thought that was you."

"Hey Chet, what are you doing here?"

"I got called in to work. Bill on B-shift wrenched his knee. I just drove the squad in from the last run." Chet paused as he sized up the appearance of his friend. "What are you doing here, Roy? You look like hell. Are you sick?"

"No, I'm not sick," Roy replied wearily. "I just haven't slept. I brought Johnny in."

"Oh, man..., lemme guess. He fell off the ladder?"

"No, actually he didn't hurt himself. Johnny stayed over after we finished for the day because he wasn't feeling well and didn't want to drive. Then he woke up feeling really bad in the middle of the night with a high fever, so I brought him in."

"He looked fine when I left. Is he all right?" Chet asked with a note of concern.

"Yeah, it came on real suddenly. He's sleeping right now. Early ordered a bunch of tests. He says it could just be a bad flu… but Dr. Early has a feeling it might be something Johnny picked up on vacation." Roy paused and scratched his head. "Johnny doesn't seem too bad right now, but some of the things they're testing him for are really serious."

"Man, Gage turns everything into a big production, doesn't he? Why can't he get just get normal everyday diseases like everyone else?"

"Well, he already gets his fair share of those too." Roy remarked with a weak smile.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Roy..., um..., let me know if you hear any news, okay?"

"Sure, Chet."

"Thanks Roy, I better get going." Chet disappeared down the corridor.

Roy returned to the newspaper, but soon lost interest. His back was cramping and he got up to stretch. Not wanting to sit around any longer, Roy went in search of some news on John.

The middle- aged nurse at the nurse's station smiled at Roy as he approached. She gave him an update on Johnny's condition, which didn't consist of much besides the fact that he was still sleeping. He thought he'd go see for himself.

As he entered the darkened hospital room, Roy saw that Johnny was indeed still sleeping. He didn't look nearly as horrible as he did a few hours ago, but he still looked ill. At least he appeared to be resting comfortably.

Roy sank into an uncomfortable vinyl chair next to the bed. The nurse had told him the doctor would be in soon to check on Johnny. Roy decided he should go home after he spoke with Dr. Early. If Johnny was just going to sleep, Roy figured he might as well try to get some rest himself.

The rhythmic sound of Johnny's breathing lulled Roy into the first real sleep he had had all night.

Roy didn't know how long he'd been out when he felt Dr. Early gently shake him awake.

"Roy, sorry to wake you, but you didn't look very comfortable."

"I wasn't," groaned Roy as he rubbed the back of his neck. "How's Johnny?"

"He's doing much better right now." Dr. Early spoke with a reassuring tone and accompanying smile. "So far everything looks good. I just checked him over. His fever's been down to 101 for the last hour. We'll probably release him tomorrow morning."

"Doc, make him go home," whispered Johnny. His eyes were closed and he gave no other indication he was awake.

"Well, I would, but you don't look like you're in any condition to drive, Roy. You look exhausted," Dr Early replied.

"Yeah, I am beat," confessed Roy. "I hadn't been able to sleep even before Johnny got sick. I had trouble sleeping at the station the night before too."

"Okay, Roy. Why don't you sleep here? There's an empty bed right there. That is, as long as you don't mind having a roommate, Johnny."

"s'okay," slurred John faintly. He was fading.

Dr. Early provided Roy with a set of scrubs so he wouldn't have to sleep in his jeans Roy put on the scrubs and settled in the bed after Dr. Early left the room. He whispered to Johnny, wondering if he were still awake, but got no response.

The clock on his hospital room wall told him it was almost ten when Johnny woke up to an empty room. He thought he remembered Roy saying he was going to stay the night here, but the bed next to him was made and there was no sign of his partner.

However, Johnny currently had more pressing concerns than Roy's whereabouts… namely a full bladder.

He carefully lowered the rail of his bed, mindful of the IV still attached to his arm. He got to his feet slowly to adjust for the dizziness that came with both illness and being horizontal for a prolonged period. John dragged his IV pole along with him to the bathroom.

The bathroom's mirror revealed a face not baring the expected pallor, but one colored a pale pink. Johnny brushed his fingers across his cheek. He couldn't decide if he was just flushed from fever, or had some sort of rash. With a shrug of his shoulders, he realized that it was up to the doctor to determine the cause of his current complexion.

Not long after Johnny had settled himself back in bed, Roy quietly entered the room. Roy smiled when he saw Johnny was awake.

"Hey, how are you feeling?"

"Been better... Don't feel quite as bad as I did when I first got here though." Johnny frowned, looking slightly puzzled. "Have you been here all night?"

"Yeah, I slept in the spare bed here." Roy gestured to the vacant bed. "You don't remember?"

"Yeah, I kinda do... Just wasn't sure."

"Dr. Brackett is going to come and talk to you soon. Dr. Early's off today." Roy hesitated and suddenly looked almost shy. "I'll..., uh..., go get some coffee when he gets here."

"No, that's all right. You can stay. It'll save me the trouble of repeating what he says to you." Johnny offered a small smile.

Johnny appreciated Roy's offer of privacy; medical information was, after all, confidential. However, Johnny didn't see the need to exclude Roy. The fact that he was sick wasn't a secret. Johnny recognized that Roy was probably quite worried, and wanting to know what was wrong as much as he did.

Dr. Brackett didn't keep them waiting long.

"Hey Johnny, how are you doing?"

"I don't know Doc, you tell me." John lacked the energy to participate in anything but completely necessary dialogue.

"Fair enough. Well Johnny, although you probably don't feel it right now, you lucked out. The illness we're pretty sure you've contracted may not be pleasant, but it doesn't put you in any immediate danger."

"'Pretty sure' I've contracted?"

"Well, the lab is going to try to isolate and grow any virus or bacteria which is present in your blood. The results should be in tomorrow morning, if not later today. But even without the results, you show all the classic clinical symptoms."

"Symptoms of what Doc? What's wrong with me?"

"Dengue fever, Johnny."

"Dengue fever?" Johnny had heard the name before, but couldn't immediately recall the details. Johnny looked confused for a moment as he tried to remember what little he had read about the disease. "Dengue fever!" Johnny exclaimed, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Doc, how can I have Dengue fever? I was in Mexico, not Asia."

"Joe and I did some research during the night. Over the past few years there have been several cases of Dengue reported in some of the areas you visited. Barring the results of your blood cultures, that pretty much confirmed what both of us already suspected. A specific family of mosquito carries the virus that causes the disease. The virus is most common in the tropics but it has spread to other areas, including Mexico. Do you remember getting bitten, Johnny?"

"Yeah, I got lots of bites. I didn't think much of it at the time though." John wove a shaky hand through his hair. "So what happens now?"

"Well Johnny, as I said, you're lucky. Dengue fever can sometimes develop into very serious conditions called Dengue Hemorrhagic Fever or Dengue Shock Syndrome, and both conditions require hospitalization. However, you show no signs of either infection. The preliminary blood tests showed your hematocrit levels are normal, and you tested negative on the tourniquet test."

The doctor paused, letting the information be absorbed by the men in front of him. "There's no treatment for Dengue fever. It'll run its course in about seven days, sometimes even less. The best thing is to treat the symptoms, so you're comfortable… and make sure you get plenty of fluids and rest. The virus is only transmitted through the mosquito vector, so there's no chance of it being contagious…as long as you stay away from tropical mosquitoes."

"Can I go home then?" Johnny inquired hopefully.

"There's nothing we can do for you here... but Johnny...," Brackett hesitated a beat, his internal search for the appropriate words evident on his face. "... I understand that you're living alone right now?"

"Yeah, Doc," Johnny replied, obviously disliking the conversation's current direction.

"You're gonna need somebody to stay with you. Dengue fever isn't fatal, but you're still a very sick man... and the symptoms may get worse. One of the more dangerous symptoms is anorexia. I need someone to make sure you're eating something, and drinking a lot, even when you have no appetite. The headaches and muscle pain can sometimes get so severe that you may not want, or even be able, to get out of bed. Someone's got to always be there to take care of you."

Roy, who had stayed silent through the exchange thus far, finally spoke up. "I'll stay with him, or he can stay at my house. It's up to you, Johnny. I was already planning on taking my next shift off to finish the work around my house, so that's at least five days I'm available."

"No, Roy," Johnny exclaimed adamantly. "I mean, Doc, if I'm that sick shouldn't I stay in the hospital?"

"Johnny, of course, you're welcome to stay, but unfortunately it will have to be on your own dollar."

"Oh, man. I really can't afford that..."

"Well Johnny," Roy interjected. "Unless you get any better offers, it seems you're stuck with me. I guess you'll want to stay at your place?"

"No...," Johnny sighed dejectedly. "If we're at your house at least you can still work on the floors and stuff."

"Okay, it's settled then," announced Dr. Brackett. "Johnny, we have you on Tylenol right now. I want you to keep taking two Tylenol every four to five hours until the fever breaks. The Tylenol will keep your fever down to a lower, more comfortable level and help with the pain. Roy, I want you to make sure he does this. If the fever goes up again, he's going to feel a lot worse. Johnny, I'll give you a prescription for Tylenol 3, but I only want you to take it if the pain gets really bad."

"What about the nosebleeds, Doc?" Roy asked with concern.

"Minor bleeding phenomena do sometimes occur with Dengue Fever. I suspect the aspirin he took before going to bed aggravated the bleeding. That's why I only want him to take acetaminophen, no aspirin or any other anticoagulants. As I said, there's no indication that Johnny has the hemorrhagic form of the fever."

The barrage of information was too much for Johnny to digest in his current state. The effort of paying attention, combined with the growing anxiety of what awaited him in the next seven days, had manifested into a swirling ball in his already upset stomach. "Doc, I'm feeling real sick to my stomach right now."

"Nausea and vomiting are also common with Dengue. We'll give you a shot of Compazine for your stomach before you leave. I'll give you two prescriptions for Compazine in case you need it at home... One in pill form and the other in suppository, in case you can't keep pills down. I'll also prescribe a sleeping pill, because insomnia can sometimes occur with Dengue fever. So far you haven't seemed to have any trouble sleeping, so only take it if you need it. "

Dr. Brackett wrote Johnny his prescriptions, and told him he'd be back soon with his discharge papers and final instructions.

"Johnny," Roy said once the Doctor had left. "Why don't I go over to the pharmacy and get your prescriptions while you're waiting?"

"Oh… um… sure, okay… thanks. But… uh… Roy?"

"Yeah?"

"I... I don't think I need all of them just yet."

"What do you mean?"

"It's just… well… I… I don't want to spend money to pay for meds I won't use. I don't need two kinds of Compazine. I haven't even thrown up! The pills are all I need. And… and… the sleeping pills… I haven't had any trouble sleeping at all… like the Doc said. I'll get them filled if I need them… but I probably won't… so there's no use in me wasting money on them now. I… I just need the codeine and the nausea pills for now."

"Well, okay… if you say so. "

Within the hour, Johnny was relieved of nausea through the promised injection of medication, dressed, discharged, and settled into the passenger seat of his Rover. They left Rampart, heading first to John's apartment so they could gather anything he needed for his stay at Roy's place.

Johnny was feeling drowsy from the medication, but tried his best to remain awake for the duration of their trip. He loathed being sick. He realized that most people shared that sentiment, but Johnny got sick more often than the average person... and he especially hated that.

With Johnny's spleen removed after his hit-and-run accident, it left him with a compromised immune system, and he was rarely spared whenever a cold or flu spread through the department, hospital staff, or the general public. Most of these illnesses were mere annoyances, and he usually worked through them… but a few had been more serious. He'd only been seeing Elizabeth for a couple of weeks when he was struck down by a severe case of pneumonia, and she'd moved in to care for him while he was sick. The arrangement agreed with both of them so much that they decided to make it permanent once John was feeling better.

"So you'd rather voluntarily stay at Rampart, then spend a week with me?" Roy said with a chuckle. "Am I that bad as company?"

"Roy, it's not that. I just don't want to impose on you or anyone else. If I'm so sick that I can't take care of myself, then I should be in the hospital."

"It doesn't always work like that, you know."

"Roy, do mind if we don't talk for a while? It's making my headache feel worse."

They drove to Johnny's house and gathered what was needed, only breaking the silence when absolutely necessary.

Back at the DeSoto house, Johnny settled into Chris's bed with the knowledge that Roy would be waking him up in a few hours for another dose of Tylenol.

Roy wished he didn't have to disturb John's respite. The lines of pain and fatigue were smoothed from his friend's face during sleep. However, letting Johnny sleep would only result in him waking up to unmasked pain and fever when the acetaminophen left his system.

Roy nudged him awake. He helped him sit up and handed him the two white pills and a glass of water. Without saying a word, Johnny swallowed the Tylenol and quickly resumed his place on the pillow.

Roy remembered he still had a phone call to make. He had already spoken to Joanne and Chet, but Hank Stanley's phone had continuously gone unanswered.

After letting it ring many times, Roy gave up and returned to some hand-sanding to his living room floor.

Later that afternoon Johnny woke up, feeling fairly decent for his condition, and rather bored lying staring up at the ceiling of an eleven-year old's bedroom. He found Roy in the kitchen, stirring a pot on the stove.

"Hey, Johnny. How are feeling?"

"Not too bad."

"Bored yet?"

"Yeah, kinda," Johnny said glumly.

"I'll move the TV into your room. I checked the TV guide, and it looks like there's a ball game on today."

"Thanks, Roy." Johnny smiled in appreciation.

"How does chicken soup sound?"

"Aw Roy, I'm really not hungry."

"I know you're not. But you still have to eat. Doctor's orders."

"Okay, whatever you say. I can go set up the TV. The stand has wheels, doesn't it? I'll do that right now."

Johnny was back in bed, propped on a bunch of pillows, when Roy joined him. Smiling when he saw that Johnny had brought in a cushioned chair and placed it beside the bed, Roy handed Johnny a mug of soup and sat down. Johnny managed to drink most of the soup at Roy's urgings.

Sometime during the fourth inning, Roy glanced over and saw Johnny had fallen fast asleep. He turned off the TV and quietly left the room.

Johnny's mind fought desperately to stay asleep, but his body was urgently pulling him to awareness with such force that when sleep finally relinquished its hold, he awoke with a gasp and jolted to a sitting position. The involuntary action triggered yet another, and as he sat up, the violent nausea, which had awoken him, rose with his body and spilled over.

Johnny clasped a hand over his mouth and dashed to the bathroom before his body could betray him into creating an even larger mess. He made it to the toilet just in time to forcefully retch and vomit a second time… and a third time.

He gasped for breath and rested his cheek on the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. He closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing.

He was a mess, the bed was a mess, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl up into a ball on the floor and die. Gage allowed himself to rest a few minutes before he had to begin the cleaning processes that would eventually lead to blissful slumber in fresh boxers and sheets.

Johnny had no idea how long he had been asleep, when he felt Roy lift his head from bathroom floor and dab his face with a cool washcloth.

"Roy, leave me alone. Jus' lemme sleep. I'll... I'll clean it all up in the morning." Johnny grumbled weakly.

"Johnny," Roy said, ignoring the protest. "Its all over you. It's in your hair. Let's get you in the tub and rinse you a bit. The smell will just make you sick again if its not cleaned up."

To his horror, Johnny found that he didn't have the strength to argue. With a resigned sigh and a clenched jaw, he let Roy guide him into the tub, turn on the shower, and rinse away his last bit of dignity.

The entire episode was too draining and left Johnny shaking and nearly unable to stand. Roy handed Johnny a towel, and placed an arm around his waist for support as they returned to Johnny's temporary bedroom.

Oh man, the bed.

"Don't worry," Roy said, as Johnny tensed up. "I already changed the sheets."

It just gets better and better...

Roy insisted on spending the rest of the night in the chair by the bed, armed with a plastic pail, telling Johnny that he didn't want him out of bed unless absolutely necessary. Much to his continued chagrin, Johnny had to ask Roy for the bucket a couple times during the night.

Roy was making a sandwich for lunch when the doorbell rang. He was surprised to find Hank Stanley on his front porch.

"Cap, what are you doing here? Didn't Chet call you?"

"No, Roy, what wrong? I thought I was supposed to come over and help you with your renovations. I brought my sander for the floor. You look terrible. Are you sick, pal?"

"No, it's Johnny that's sick, not me. I was up half the night with him. Why don't you come in, I'll tell you about it. I just made coffee."

Roy filled Stanley in on all the details of the last few days. As originally promised, heas more than willing to stay and help out.

"So how is John feelin' now?" Stanley asked with concern.

"Not too bad, considering. He managed to keep down his anti-nausea pills and Tylenol this morning and he's just been resting and watching TV all day."

"You think it would be okay if I said hello?"

"Yeah..., why don't you come with me now? It's time for more Tylenol, anyways."

Roy and Stanley entered Chris' bedroom to find Johnny awake and watching a game show through bleary eyes. John informed them that he had already remembered to take the Tylenol. Under Roy's watchful eye, Johnny drank the ginger ale that Roy had left earlier, and handed back the empty glass. Roy left to return the glass to the kitchen, leaving his friend alone with Stanley.

Johnny smiled weakly, glad to see his Captain, although not really in the mood for a visit. Johnny had just thrown up not long ago, and he was beginning to feel queasy again.

"Hey, John, how are doing?"

"I've been better. Sorry I won't be able to work for a while."

"There's no need to apologize, John. If there's anything I can do to help, just let me know."

"Thanks, Cap."

"Do you need me to get you anything right now? You look like you're hurting."

"Naw, I... I'm just tired."

"Well you take it easy, pal. I'll let you get some rest. I hope you're feeling better soon."

Five minutes after Cap left the bedroom, John had to make yet another mad dash to the bathroom, courtesy of his stomach.

Working all afternoon, Roy and Captain Stanley were able to finish sanding all the floors in the dining room and living room and complete a coat of stain, which needed to dry overnight before applying the finishing wax. They were enjoying a dinner of barbecued burgers and beer on the back patio when Johnny appeared at the back door, yelling Roy's name. Johnny had been asleep when Roy checked fifteen minutes ago to see if he wanted to join them for dinner. Both men jumped up and ran for the door. He had been supporting himself on the doorframe, and they each grabbed an arm.

"The codeine Roy... I need the codeine. Where is it?" Johnny's words were terse, obviously spoken through a great deal of pain.

"It's in the kitchen, I'll go get it for you. Cap, can you help him back to bed?"

As yet, Johnny hadn't needed the stronger painkiller. Stanley helped Johnny back to the bed, but once Roy returned and handed John the pills, the Captain wandered over to the doorway, sensing his presence was making John even more uncomfortable.

Roy sat on the bed and felt the raging heat on Johnny's forehead with his palm. "Your fever's back up. Didn't you take the Tylenol earlier?"

"Yeah, I took it." Johnny's voice was strained with fatigue. He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the pain. "But I brought it back up about ten minutes later. Damn, my head really hurts."

"Johnny, you should have let me know," Roy chastised. "This was why Dr. Brackett said it was so important you keep on top of the Tylenol."

Johnny's eyes flew open and fixed on Roy's. Roy realized they were shining, not just with pain and fever, but also with anger.

"Lay off, Roy!" Johnny snapped as he pushed himself back up to a sitting position. His shaky hands gestured wildly as he continued. "I'm not a child. I know I have to take the damn pills. I took some more right after I threw up, but then I threw up again twenty minutes later. I thought I would have absorbed enough before that, but I guess I was wrong. I'm not stupid, you know."

"Johnny, take it easy, I'm sorry," Roy tried to calm his friend. "You're not stupid, I never said or thought you were. Why don't you take one of these Compazine pills and some more Tylenol now. Then, just close your eyes and try to relax. You'll be feeling better soon."

Roy was slightly surprised when Johnny actually did lie back down after taking the pills, close his eyes and visibly relax without further comment. Nonetheless, Roy knew that John's willingness to immediately settle down was a sign of just how much pain in which his friend was.

Roy left the room, finding that Stanley had quietly retreated to the kitchen to give his paramedics some privacy.

"I'm sorry, Cap."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, pal. He's sick and in pain and he's angry at his situation. He's just taking it all out on you."

"I know that, Cap. But, thanks."

Cap rubbed his palms together. "How about another burger?"

Waking up the next day was a glorious experience for Johnny. He sat up and saw the sun bursting through the corners of the blinds. The light held only beauty and didn't hurt his aching head. In fact his head didn't ache at all. None of his body parts ached. He didn't feel too hot or too cold, and he was neither sweaty nor shivering. He glanced down at rubbed a hand over his bare chest. The strange pink rash that had appeared two days ago had completely vanished.

A huge grin broke out over Johnny's previously stoic face.

It was over.

John got up and grabbed a towel from the linen closet, whistling all the while. He hopped in the shower, eager to wash away any lingering traces of the previous four days.

By the time Johnny got out of the shower and dressed, he wanted to go back to bed. His spirits weren't diminished, however. Dr. Brackett had told him there was a long convalescence period associated with Dengue fever. Fatigue and weakness would be his constant companion for at least the next couple weeks, and perhaps even months.

A ten-minute rest rejuvenated Gage enough to continue to his original destination - the kitchen. After four days of absolutely no appetite, not to mention nausea, vomiting and general malaise… Johnny was actually hungry. He wasn't ravenous, or starving like a healthy man would be after eating next to nothing for four days, but just enough so that the thought of a bit of food was appealing.

Johnny took notice of all the changes that had taken place in the DeSoto home. The floors were all finished, the walls completely repainted, and some of the furniture had been moved back into place.

John found Roy finishing a telephone conversation in the kitchen. Roy hung up the phone, and smiled as he turned around and saw Johnny.

"Hey, how are you feeling? Your fever broke last night around nine, so I let you sleep."

"Man, I feel a hundred percent better." Johnny demonstrated his happiness with his trademark grin..., but his mirth faltered slightly as a guilty memory pervaded his mind. "Roy, I'm sorry about yelling at you last night, " Johnny confessed. "Especially with Cap there... I was feeling really bad, but it's still not an excuse."

"Johnny, don't worry about it. I knew it was pain talking… so did Cap."

Johnny smiled and nodded his head, acknowledging the forgiveness. "You got anything to eat?"

"Hey, help yourself," Roy chuckled. "I was just on the phone to Brackett. He wanted me to remind you to take it easy… and to remind you that the fever might come back.

"Yeah, yeah I know. Dengue can have a 'saddle-back, biphasic, febrile pattern', " he recited Brackett's words. "But Roy, I feel really good." Johnny continued talking, as he got a box of cereal from cupboard and poured a full bowl. "The rash is gone, the headache is gone, and my body doesn't feel like it's being beat up from the inside out anymore. I mean, I couldn't possibly feel this good if I was still sick! I know I still have to take it easy for a while, but I wanna go back to my place to rest."

"Johnny, I'm glad you're feeling better. But, maybe you shouldn't go home just yet... until we're sure you're over it... I guess if you'd be more comfortable at your place, I could go with you and sleep on the couch tonight. "

John emitted a loud, dramatic sigh, effectively admitting defeat. "No, no… I can help you finish up with the house today." He smirked. "All the hard work is done. Besides, I wouldn't want Joanne mad at me if she comes home to a half-redone house."

"Joanne would never be mad at you for being sick. She was worried about you. She wanted to rush home and help take care of you, but we both agreed that you probably wouldn't have been up to dealing with the kids."

"Yeah," Johnny agreed and winced as he pictured his worst moments of the last four days being witnessed by Chris, Jennifer and Joanne. He sat down at kitchen table and eagerly attacked his cereal. "You know Roy, it's not that I don't enjoy your company, or appreciate your help. It's just that I like to take care of myself... and sometimes a man just wants to relax alone in his own home."

"I understand, Johnny. We can talk to Brackett tomorrow and see what he thinks."

By the end of the afternoon, Roy's home projects were mostly finished. Johnny helped out what little he could, but he tired easily and had to lie down a couple times during the day. The two friends were watching TV in the family room that night when the phone rang. Roy went up to answer it in the kitchen, and came back a few minutes later with a grim look on his face.

"What's wrong, Roy?" Johnny asked, alarmed.

"Oh, nothing serious. I'll just have to try and work something out. That was Dwyer. He was going to trade a shift with me so I could be off tomorrow, but he's not feeling well and doesn't think he can work it."

John shrugged. "So, you have to work tomorrow. The house is pretty much done, it's not that big a deal."

"It's not the house I'm worried about, it's you. I don't know if it's a good idea for you to be alone for a whole day."

"Roy, the fever's been gone for twenty four hours. Except for being tired, I feel fine. And besides, I'm a grown man. I don't need a babysitter."

"Maybe if I phone Cap now, he can find another replacement. The problem is we're short of paramedics right now. I don't know if he'll be able to scrounge up two replacements." Roy paused for a moment, a thoughtful look on his face. "I know... you can come stay at the station tomorrow. I'm sure Cap won't mind."

"No, Roy," Johnny said, while emphatically shaking his head. "No way, I couldn't stand it." The thought of him recuperating at the station, his shift mates poking, prodding, fussing and tiptoeing around him was almost enough to make him lose his dinner. "Roy, just go to work. I can stay here. You can call me as much as you like during the shift. I'll even call you with updates. If anything goes wrong, I know what to do."

Roy sighed. Johnny had a point. "All right, but I'm going to wake you up tomorrow morning to see if you're still okay."

"Good deal, good deal."

As promised, Roy woke Johnny up in the wee hours of the morning while there was still enough time for him to request a replacement if needed. John, while grumpy, was fever, rash, and pain free.

When Johnny awoke later that morning, he bounced out of bed with enormous enthusiasm. After five days of worried glances, soothing tones and everything done for him without any say for himself, he was finally free.

He had always felt welcome, and loved being in the DeSoto home. But right now the walls seemed oppressive. He had to get out.

Johnny called the station, not wanting Roy to worry if he phoned home and got no answer. The station was apparently out on a run.

Johnny arrived at his place a short time later. He took one look around, and knew any breathing space he found here would be short-lived. As soon as the shift was over, Roy would undoubtedly be coming to check on him. Probably would insist on staying the night, too... until he was sure the fever wasn't coming back.

And now that he had entered the convalescent stage, all his friends would be dropping by to offer any and all assistance they could. As much as he appreciated and loved his friends, right now the thought of constant company was overwhelming. He had to use this little reprieve for all it was worth. He needed to regain a feeling of independence.

Johnny knew exactly how to do it. He remembered how satisfied he felt doing work at Roy's house. His apartment was still uncharacteristically messy. He decided he would try rearranging some of his furniture once he was done cleaning and organizing. Altogether, it was sure to give him that sense of change and self-accomplishment he was looking for.

After that, he would probably welcome the company of his friends... at least in intervals.

Roy was getting worried. John hadn't called yet, and every time Roy had gotten a chance to call home between runs, there was no answer. He was about to try one more time when the station phone rang.

"Los Angeles County Fire Station 51, Fireman DeSoto speaking."

"Hi Roy, it's me."

"Johnny, where are you? I've been calling you for hours."

"Roy, don't worry; I'm fine."

"Then why didn't you answer the phone?"

"Oh, well, I'm not at your house. I drove back to my place this morning."

"You drove home? Are you sure that was a good idea? I thought you were gonna stay at my house one more day."

"Roy, I wouldn't have driven if I hadn't felt up to it. Besides, it's not that far, and I was careful." Johnny let out an exasperated sigh. "I just need this time alone in my own place right now. I'll keep in touch, but I... I really just want to recuperate on my own for a while."

"Johnny, I…. " Roy's sentence was cut off by the klaxons signalling the station to a rescue. "I have to go, but we'll talk later."

Johnny hung up the phone receiver. He was slightly relieved that Roy had been toned out mid-conversation. Roy was already none too pleased about Johnny staying by himself for the day. Add to that his decision to drive and his request for no visitors; an argument was a given. Now at least it had been postponed, perhaps even averted.

Johnny spent the rest of the day giving his apartment a thorough cleaning. He was forced to work slowly and took many breaks, but by the end of the day, the place was spotless. He rearranged the furniture in his bedroom and living room, and at the end of the day he was quite satisfied with the results of his efforts.

He fell asleep that night, feeling peaceful, content and secure.

The fire was burning all around Johnny; there was no way out. His air tank was long empty. The heat and smoke entered him with each breath, burning him from inside his body. He wasn't going to last much longer. He could no longer see through the thick smoke. He tried to remember how he had gotten here, or with whom he had last been…but he drew a blank. The scene held a distinct familiarity, but that awareness offered no help or comfort. There was no one else near, and the fire was too strong for anyone to get to him. John was forced to the ground as something fell on top of him. Searing pain coursed throughout his body. There was a loud crash, followed by a shuddering crack beneath him…and then he was falling as the floor gave way…

Johnny opened his eyes, gasping for breath.

The same damn dream...

And like the last time, the pain, heat and discomfort stayed with him, as his mind made the journey to consciousness. But unlike last time, the feelings of anxiety, dread and daunting isolation still permeated his every breath after waking.

It was back. Not just the fever, but all of it… and he couldn't do a thing about it.

The pain behind Johnny's eyes was unbearable. He curled up into a ball and cradled his throbbing head. He tried to calm his uncontrollable shaking. The events of the last five days flashed through his fevered mind. Every moment came back to him in intense detail. And with each memory of pain or discomfort, Roy was there, helping him through it.

Did I really think I could have managed on my own?

Remorse added its tight grip to Johnny's many aches. He had never once said 'Thank you' to his best friend during the entire ordeal of the past week.

The guy ran himself ragged taking care of me... And what did I do? I yelled at him, made it clear I wasn't happy being there, and then took off the first chance I got.

Short hours ago, the walls around him provided asylum. Now they were slowly suffocating him.

He wanted to phone Roy. He needed to phone Roy. But Johnny's delirious mind believed Roy's friendship was a privilege he didn't deserve.

Instead, he stayed curled in a tight ball and tried to derive what comfort he could from his own embrace. John moaned in agony as the pain in his head intensified so much that he was afraid he might pass out. He didn't have any Tylenol at his house. His pills had been forgotten, and still sat on the DeSoto's bathroom counter.

Finally, when Gage couldn't bear it any longer, he reached for the phone. With a hand shaking so severely he needed three attempts, he dialed the number.

It was just before 5:00am. The men of station 51's A-shift were sound asleep, having returned to the station after a call an hour before. The ring of the phone pierced the air, eliciting more than a few sleepy groans.

"Los Angeles County Fire Station 51, Captain Stanley speaking."

"Cap? It's John. I... I gotta talk to Roy." The voice on the phone was quiet and rough.

"John, you don't sound too good. How are you doing?"

"Not… not too good. Cap..., I... I really need to speak to Roy..."

"Okay, hold on."

Having overheard the brief one-sided conversation, Roy was already up and had crossed the short distance to the phone.

Hank handed Roy the receiver, their equally worried eyes meeting as Roy talked to Johnny.

"Johnny, what's wrong?" Roy asked anxiously.

"Roy… I… I'm not feeling too good. The… uh… fever's back…. It really... hurts."

"Johnny? Are you still at home?"

"Uh… yeah…"

"Okay, Pete and I are coming."

"No… no, don't call it in. Don't bring the squad."

"Johnny, its five in the morning. Either we come in the squad to help you now, or you wait a few hours until my shift is over."

"Um…okay…" Johnny's last word was drowned out by the station's tones.

"Johnny? I've gotta go. I'll call you another squad."

"No!" Johnny's voice carried a desperate edge. "Don't call another squad. I'll be fine. Just come by when you're done. And..., uh… can you bring some Tylenol? I forgot it at your house."

"Okay, Johnny. Take it easy. I'll be there as soon as I can."

The pain wouldn't quite let him fall asleep, but Johnny drifted into an altered consciousness, completely unaware of time.

He was, therefore, rather startled when Roy's face suddenly appeared above him.

"Johnny, can you hear me?"

"Uhn… yeah, yeah." Johnny blinked and rubbed his eyes. Reality was still slightly elusive. "W-What… What time is it? Is Pete here too? " John inquired as he tried to get his bearings.

"It's not quite seven yet. I'm here by myself. Cap arranged it so I could leave a bit early."

"Oh man, you didn't have to do that." Johnny sat up slowly. He started to apologize for waking everyone at the station, but was stopped short by yet another returning symptom. "Oh man… I'm gonna be sick."

Johnny let Roy help him up, but before they reached the bathroom door, he stopped when he felt the familiar wooziness wash over.

"Roy," was all Johnny said. He let himself fall into the encroaching darkness, confidant that Roy would catch him.

Johnny didn't completely lose consciousness, but the dizziness overwhelmed him. Roy managed to catch Johnny before his legs gave way and helped him back to his bed.

It took a couple minutes for the dizziness to subside enough for John to unclench his shut eyes. Seeing Roy sitting next to him, Johnny started to tell him he needed something for pain, but his stomach abruptly lurched and he vomited into a plastic garbage pail that miraculously appeared before him. John fell back to the pillow when he was done.

Roy brought him a wet cloth and a glass of water to rinse his mouth. Roy waited a few minutes for Johnny to recover, then gave him the Tylenol with codeine and some Compazine. A quick run by the Rampart ER, and Brackett had given him what he needed. It would have taken too long to go home and come back.

"Roy," whispered John. "You gonna stay a while? I need to talk to you."

"Sure, Johnny. Whenever you're ready."

John waited for the pain to become tolerable. He was determined to stay awake. He had to apologize for his ungratefulness right away.

But as the pain began to lift, he heard Roy's voice urging him to rest. The temptation was too great, and John fell into a deep sleep. * * * * * * * *

Johnny woke up, and found himself alone in the room. Still determined to put things right, he got up in search of Roy.

Roy was lying on the couch in the living room, snoring softly. The TV was on, but barely audible.

Johnny smiled. He pulled the afghan off the back of the couch and covered his friend. He silenced the television, and then sat in the easy chair beside the couch.

John sat contentedly, until he too drifted off.

A hand on his forehead roused Johnny. Roy was about to place a thermometer in John's mouth, but Johnny stopped it by grabbing his wrist.

"Roy, thank you." Johnny said looking his friend straight in the eye.

"For what?"

"For… for everything. For taking care of me, even when I didn't show it. I mean it, Roy. I really appreciate it... I don't know how you put up with me."

"Johnny, you're welcome," Roy said. He sat down on the sofa. "You would have done the same for me, I think."

"Yeah, of course I would, but it would be different. The whole burden wouldn't be on me. You've got a family that can take care of you… and... I don't think you would be as difficult a patient as I am." John gave a sheepish grin.

The grin quickly faded though, as his pain and nausea once again made an appearance. "Roy, I need to lie down." John's voice was now quiet and weak. "I… I need some help."

Johnny had to lean heavily on Roy on their way back to the bedroom. John curled up under the covers, trying to get some control over his aching body and rolling stomach. Roy brought him some more painkillers, which were eagerly accepted.

"Roy," John said, after he was sure the pills would stay in his stomach. "Do you mind... hangin' around here for a bit?"

"No, I don't mind. Just as long as you get some rest."

"Thanks, Roy." Johnny's voice trailed off.

Roy waited until Johnny was sleeping soundly, then turned out the lights and closed the door behind him as he left the room.

One month later...

Johnny strolled into the locker room at 7:30, wearing an enormous smile.

"Good morning! How are ya guys?" he greeted Marco, Mike, Chet and Roy, who were all in various states of undress.

Johnny was bombarded with a barrage of 'Welcome Backs!' and enthusiastic pats on the back.

He quickly changed into his uniform, extremely eager to start his first shift in over a month. With an exuberant flourish, he tapped his Smokey the Bear poster for luck, and shut his locker door.

Very soon the familiar routine settled in as if Gage had never been gone. Johnny couldn't seem to wipe the smile off his face.

Not long after roll call, Gage and DeSoto left for Rampart on a much needed supply run. The ER was very busy and, according to the harried nurse who signed their supply papers, short staffed. The former and the latter were both due to a nasty flu bug going around.

"Oh, great," Johnny muttered upon hearing that bit of news from the nurse.

Roy just smiled and thanked the nurse, then headed back to the squad. He could hear Johnny behind him grumbling about his bad luck, and how there was no way he'd be taking anymore sick days in the near future.

But by the time they started back to the station, the minor rant was over. Roy looked over at Johnny in the passenger seat, who was now seemingly lost in thought.

Roy frowned slightly at his partner's appearance. The actual Dengue fever had run the quintessential seven days, but despite his optimism, Gage had not been spared the prolonged recovery period. Dr. Brackett had finally cleared Johnny for duty a couple of days ago. Johnny's coloring and energy level were right back to normal, but he was still much too skinny... in Roy's opinion. For a man who was naturally on the thin side, the weight Johnny had lost had been strikingly apparent. Nevertheless, Johnny's normal appetite had returned full force, and he was already beginning to gain it back.

"I'm glad you're back, Johnny," Roy offered.

"Thanks, Roy. Believe me, you have no idea how good it feels to be back."

They rode silently for a few minutes before John spoke again.

"You know what, Roy? As awful as the whole thing was, something good came of me being sick."

"Really? What's that?" Roy inquired with great curiosity and scepticism.

"Well, you remember how messed up I was after I broke up with Liz?"

"Yeah, of course I remember. That's why you went to Mexico in the first place."

"I realized that I was way too dependent on Elizabeth. I don't know… maybe… maybe it was because our relationship first got serious when she was taking care of me when I had pneumonia, and I just got used to letting her take care of everything. I'm just glad I realized how unhealthy the relationship was before it got out of hand."

"I agree Johnny, but what's this got to do with you being sick last month?"

"Hold on, I'm getting there, I'm getting there. Man, you can be really impatient sometimes you know."

Roy just replied with a hand gesture encouraging him to get on with it.

"Okay, so when I got back from Mexico, I told you about my plan to be completely self-sufficient. But, what I didn't realize was that I was just doing the extreme opposite, you know? That's not too healthy either. I really thought that I could handle everything on my own… without any help. So when I first got sick, I didn't want to rely on anybody to take care of me. Not just because I didn't want to be a burden, but I also thought that I would turn back into the person I was when I was with Liz.

"But the sicker I got, and the more help I needed, the more I realized that being independent doesn't mean I'll never need help and that asking for it doesn't automatically turn me into some weak-minded pushover. And man," Johnny ran his hand through his hair as if for emphasis, "did I ever need your help at times in the last month, Roy."

Roy chuckled softly, as a thought occurred to him.

"What's so funny?" Johnny asked.

"It's just that when you first told me about your new plan of total 'self sufficiency', I thought it would be some girl that finally brought you back to your senses."

Johnny snorted genially. "Hey, that reminds me! Who was that redhead we saw talking to Morton in the hall? That chick was gorgeous!"

The abrupt switch from serious soul-searching to ogling cute nurses didn't faze Roy a bit. He was used to it. "Oh, that's Sarah. She started working in the ER just about the time you first got sick. I'm pretty sure she's single."

"Sarah, huh? I'll just have to introduce myself next time we're there."

Almost a minute went by before Johnny said, "Oh, and thanks Roy."

Roy wasn't sure if Johnny was thanking him for supplying the new nurse's name, taking care of him during his illness, listening to him, something else, or all of the above. But since they were now about to back into the station, he just replied, "Anytime, Johnny. Anytime."

**WRITER'S NOTE: **_  
An enormous thanks goes to E!U and Nan M. I am extremely grateful for all the support and encouragement you both so generously gave. I never would have attempted to write, let alone finish this story without you. _


End file.
